


undisclosed

by astonishman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, No Dialogue, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astonishman/pseuds/astonishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora finds a way to get closer to Stiles.</p><p>(Written for an anon ask who wanted Stiles/Cora smut).</p>
            </blockquote>





	undisclosed

Derek and his brooding, all-work-and-no-play attitude was something that might cause a regular person to want to escape certainly, but it wasn’t pressing and claustrophobic enough to make Cora want to escape, but she did anyway. There was nothing special about Stiles except that he was in her life now and she didn’t want to strangle him all of the time. Cora found herself wandering aimlessly through the dark streets and arriving at his doorstep every night like there was nowhere else she should have been instead. There was nothing exceptional about him. He was painfully human in the most arresting way, but there was a smoothness to him that seeped through the uneven edges of his humanity. She slipped through those cracks when he wasn’t looking and found only rawness inside; tender nerves and exposed wounds. She would be reaching out and touching him to confirm her thoughts if only he would let her –they sparred with their words and Cora did not know of a way to edge under his armour, she had never learnt. There was a violent need to tear down everything that Stiles was and rebuild it with her next to him, but she had settled with being near him.

There was patience from him as he adapted his life to her spontaneous arrivals and, after a few days, they developed a rhythm; a routine. Her presence was demanding, he bent and twisted himself to accommodate her anxiety for him; her need to be close. She surprised herself by nuzzling against him in her sleep and waking up draped across him like he was a prize she had won.

There was no real talk of relationships or sex, mostly inane banter about the pack or Stiles childhood (and continuing) obsession with the original Star Trek, and she was sure, if she brought it up, that he would stutter or ramble or mumble something inaudible. But she could feel his heartbeat quicken whenever she was close and she would choose to casually rest her hand on him occasionally just to hear it pound. Sometimes when she watched him gesture vigorously during a story, she couldn’t help but forget to listen and instead imagine those hands dragging and gripping along the landscape of her body, but she never told him that.

She felt like a cliché one night asking him if he was still awake (even though she could tell from the verbal cues of his body – shallow breathing, accelerated heart rate - that he wasn’t asleep) and his affirmation of that fact was superfluous. She let his words hang in the air for a moment, she said nothing because Stiles had always used his words as a shield to deflect sincerity and protect himself and she didn’t want that, not now. She was facing away from him, so she rolled over to see him lying on his back, and looked through shifted eyes to see that his eyes were still closed.

He was mildly self-conscious enough to always wear a shirt in bed and she ran her hand underneath it along his chest. She felt his breathing catch and he said something about her cold hands. This actually wasn’t the first time she had done this, but she had always done it to warm her hands; to tease him; so he had already fallen into that familiar routine again. She shushed him trying to recapture the tensely quiet atmosphere between them. It was different this time for her, but Stiles did not comprehend that fact just yet.

She started running her fingers along his hips softly dancing around the hem of his pants and she could feel his breathing intensify. The silence, when Stiles had always spoke, was unbearable and he was certainly about to say something to make light of the situation, so she shushed him pre-emptively again. His eyes opened in surprise. He looked at her curiously and the amber glow of her eyes explained the sudden intensity of the stillness between them. He sat up and shot her a look that was a mixture of disbelief and longing. She reached over and took off his shirt which broke their eye contact briefly, but she found his eyes were still searching for her when she cast the clothing aside. People always joked about skinny, small Stiles, but seeing him like this, his body was present, it was imposing, and it was taking up all the space around her. She placed her hands on the back of his neck and pulled him towards her; her lips felt dry, but his were wet and pliant when she kissed him. He was still hesitant when he pulled away, so she leant forward and kissed him again more fervently. His hands leapt to the sides of her face and held her there and she felt the tension of the last couple of months bleed through and dissipate between their lips.

A floodgate had been opened because Stiles, the same boy that had been so distant and reserved, was all over her. He pulled off and discarded her shirt and his hands were taking inventory of her neck, her breasts, and her arms. Any part of her that was exposed was consumed by him; his touch, his kiss. Her skin was burning and it felt like he was trying to cool it down with his lips; she could feel the wolf rising inside her, but she held it back for now, because it was his turn to lose control.

He pushed her down into the bed and moved over her, she was wearing his boxers and he slid them off and she kicked them away. She was naked underneath him now and she felt acutely aware of him glancing over her body; his expression incredulous and completely consumed with want. She yanked on his sweatpants impatiently; her mouth etched into a disgruntled frown, and he worked them off. She looked over his naked body; returning the expression he had just moments before; and to stop him making a snide comment, she pulled him down on top of her and kissed him. Every line of his body was firm, not harsh, but tense.

She wanted him inside her, but he had other ideas. Kissing from her lips, to the neck, her breasts, down her stomach, her hips, her thighs… She arched towards him as the warmth of his lips and tongue made her ache all over. She closed her eyes and just felt. She felt him explore her body inside and out; his fingers finding a rhythm that made her legs weightless; his tongue circling and teasing sensitivity out of her.

After an eternity of this agony, he seemed to remember that the world had not, in fact, been replaced entirely with her body, and he came back up to her, kissed her, and whispered a casual greeting. She smiled, but shushed him again, and grasped him in her hand. He stopped breathing. She waited until he took a sharp breath, and slid her hand along his shaft a few times. He bent down over her and she could feel his warm, laboured breathing against her ear. She angled him towards her and told him to lean forward. Having him inside her was nice; it didn’t cause a sudden epiphany or shatter her world; she wanted him there and he was there and it was nice, it felt really good. She wrapped her legs around him and angled her body so that he could thrust deeper and now she felt the wolf rise up again. Stiles grinned widely when he saw her glowing eyes and her bared teeth, and it just made him push into her harder and faster. She held his body against her own; trying to cover every inch of her with him.

She didn’t let go even when there were both spent and empty, choosing to lie against him comfortably through the night. Now that there was literally nothing between them, she was all the more anxious not to leave any gaps for space to form.


End file.
